The charm moved in clockwise circles again.

Yes! Yes, yes, Hattie was speaking with her. Actually communicating.

“What’s no?”

The necklace stopped, then began to revolve in the opposite direction, counterclockwise.

“Right, got it,” she said as her heart hammered and her palms grew sticky with sweat.

So she could ask yes or no questions.

Her mind was going so fast, she had trouble coming up with her first question.

“Is this really Hattie Breckenridge?”

Yes, the necklace said, swinging clockwise.

Of course, she thought. Of course it is. Who else would it be?

She tried to calm her thoughts, to stay focused. What was it she most wanted to know?

“Is the treasure real?”

Yes.

Olive laughed out loud. “I knew it!” she said.

“Can you show me where it is?”

Counterclockwise this time: No.

“Did my mother find it?”

Yes.

“Did she take it with her when she left?”

No.

“Did my mother leave? Did she run off with a man?”

No.

Olive held her breath, eyes on the necklace, which was now slowing to a stop.

“Do you know where she is?”

Yes.

“Can you help me find her?”

The silver charm hesitated, then swung clockwise.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

CHAPTER 26

Helen

AUGUST 19, 2015

Helen was in the new house, curled up on the floor in the living room. The framed walls were stuffed full of fluffy pink insulation. With the windows and doors closed and insulation in, it was much quieter. She and Nate finished the insulation this afternoon and had even gotten started with the drywall. Hanging the drywall had been a slow, cumbersome project—maneuvering the heavy four-by-eight sheets into the house, making the necessary cuts, and then Nate holding the pieces in place while Helen screwed them to the walls with the cordless drill. The downstairs bathroom was covered in grayish drywall screwed to the studs and was ready to tape, compound, and prime. It felt good to have one room with solid walls instead of the cage of two-by-fours.

Now she blinked in the dark. Her head felt heavy, her thoughts slow. She’d gone to bed in the trailer next to Nate. It had been raining out, absolutely pouring, and the roof was leaking again. They’d put cooking pots and bowls around to catch the drips, and Helen had tossed and turned while listening to the percussion of water hitting metal pots, empty tin cans, plastic bowls. That, combined with the rain pounding down on the metal roof, created a taunting, angry symphony of rain, with the occasional rumble of thunder thrown in. She hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d gotten up, gone into the kitchen, and read Communicating with the Spirit World again. She’d been through it several times but kept going back to it.